upon dead trees black birds sing like a choir of ghosts with solemn oaths their tragic song which echos on through pillars of ice, through frozen halls a ballad destined in time to fade like the remnants of heroes slain

days of blood soaked earth lay waste to rest forever in shallow graves in desolate cold, remains men’s flight untouched by suns’ warming light despondent pasts of war and woe are hidden now beneath fallen snow

now what’s left here buried and still no longer by will rest the hearts of men of death these mortal men knew a consequence brought forth by their own hands against each other they fought together they died sealed by fate their legend is made only to be forgotten by time